


Sink or Float

by PerfidiouslySnatching



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attraction, Dark Magic, Durmstrang, F/F, Infatuation, Light Angst, POV Bellatrix Black Lestrange, POV First Person, Pining, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Surprise Kissing, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 09:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfidiouslySnatching/pseuds/PerfidiouslySnatching
Summary: It was late February when she arrived out of nowhere like an isolated storm.
Relationships: Alecto Carrow & Amycus Carrow, Alecto Carrow/Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Bellatrix Black Lestrange & Euphemia Rowle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Sink or Float

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Astoria Greengrass and the Curse of Quennell Park](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25753396) by [PerfidiouslySnatching](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfidiouslySnatching/pseuds/PerfidiouslySnatching). 



> ◈ Song rec: [Shadow Relief by Loma](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK7YeEUz6Do)
> 
> Lore-building in my head turned into a whole thing of itself and now we're here.

It was late February when she arrived out of nowhere like an isolated storm. She came on an icy-crisp morning in fourth year and interrupted my breakfast. There was some sort of _show_ made about Sorting her and her twin brother because it was halfway through the year. Who cared about a couple of fifteen-year-olds Sorting? Predictably, they both came to Slytherin.

Their names were Alecto and Amycus Carrow. They came from Durmstrang, everyone knew that. They had a set of answers ready for when people asked them questions. The answers bored everyone out of their curiosity. They told no stories and named no names from the school. They gave dull adjectives.

\-- _Large. Cold. Dark._

The most extraverted in our class asked them absolutely stupid questions:-

“How do they make up Quidditch teams if there aren’t any Sorted Houses?”

\-- _There’s two lowerclassmen teams and two upperclassmen teams._

“Did they serve pig’s feet there?”

\-- _Sometimes, but you don’t have to eat it._

“How did you understand anybody there?”

\-- _We didn’t_. _Lessons were translated_.

“Why’d you leave Durmstrang?”

\-- _Grandmother’s ageing, and it’s important for us to spend time with her_.

The Carrows’ standoffishness became known within the hour of their arrival. Though they seemed to be acquainted with Thorfinn and Euphemia Rowle, they were not friendly with them. The Rowles were a highly respected family. The Carrows’ social status became clearer each time they uttered more than a few words.

Their low class was countered by their good blood, and I had no reason to believe that they did not belong here in our noble House. That being said, I had no reason to believe much about them at all. For all of the fuss made about accepting students halfway through the year, it continued to feel like my class had not changed. The twins might not have been there at all with how unimposing, plain, and quiet they were. They would make excellent ghosts, I thought, and I ultimately had no reason to interact with people so unexciting and so far below my status.

It was one of the few times my judgement was wrong, for there could be no more interesting a person than Alecto Carrow.

It feels like a deep confession, but sometimes I wished she would see me in a similar light. The May morning sun sets her auburn hair aflame, and it falls from her crown to her shoulders in a perfect line, like thread in a loom. There is more meat on her bones than two of me put together, and I toss in my blankets wishing that she would sneak behind me and scoop me up one day. Had she been assigned my dormmate, I’m sure I would have been less and less careful about where I changed clothes each day. None of Alecto’s dormmates liked her anyway, but they only ever gave two reasons for their displeasure:

One, “She never talks.” 

Two, “She talks in her sleep.”

Two girls switched dorms already, but I have not been shuffled as a replacement yet. I will wait. If I were her roommate, I’d like to show off my wardrobe to her, make her know how dirty rich I am, and then ask her which shirt looks best on me. Why so much hope on my part? Because Vitus Crabbe asked her to Hogsmeade last week, and she looked at him like he was made of troll cud. And quite frankly, I am beautiful.

Alecto isn’t exactly beautiful, but looks don’t concern me much. I have found every reason to admire her short lashes and snorting nose. By all accounts, she is below me in every way. But her magic is special to me. It emanates from her, and I don’t know how she does it, but I do know that it runs dark and old. I cannot stop looking at her, no matter how many times her brother’s head gets in my way.

It’s there now, in my way, as I watch her from the other side of the lake. The weather is decent today: a bit of sun, the clouds come low and grey sometimes but get scared off by the wind. Euphemia and I are picnicking along the shoreline and comparing the imported sweets our mothers sent us. The Carrows sit almost parallel to us, but I am not sure what they are doing. I keep looking.

“I should like to have more of these chocolate bars,” says Euphemia.

 _Are they picking up insects along the shore?_ _Surely not_ , I scrunch my nose.

“I should like to have those truffles you have... by the pound, I think,” says Euphemia.

 _Oh, it’s rocks. Why are they collecting rocks?_ I furrow my brow.

“Isn’t this that gourmet variety from Austria?” says Euphemia.

Amycus stands. Alecto reaches both arms skyward, and he grabs her hands and hoists her up. I hope they don’t see me. Actually, I hope Alecto doesn’t see me and Amycus _does_. Or perhaps the other way around? I can’t decide.

“Bella,” says Euphemia.

“Sorry?”

“You weren’t speaking.”

“Mm. You know Alecto, don’t you, Effie?”

“I’m not sure.”

I return my gaze to Euphemia over her strange response.

“You’re not sure? What sort of comment is that?” I ask.

“I mean I am not well-acquainted with her. We met… once.”

“Oh. Through your brother?” I guess.

“He knows her less than I do,” Euphemia corrects me.

“Then how do you know her?” I press, though I fear it makes my intentions obvious.

Euphemia puts on an air of ease, and says, “Oh, well, you know, the route that’s used from here to Durmstrang passes through our waters at Rowle Ridge.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I say.

It made sense at the time, but it did not make as much sense after Euphemia left my company. The Carrows’ digging and sifting about made sense now, though. They had gathered a collection of skipping stones. The bounding of the stones across the surface of the water was no spectator sport. It brought me no amusement, but Alecto seemed to be having a great time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile up close. I try to squint it closer towards me. I can’t seem to capture its details, and I grow bitter over her preference to engage in such a juvenile activity over accepting my now- _numerous_ invitations to sit with my and Euphemia’s group. Did she not like Euphemia? That was more likely than her not liking me.

I should have brought a book so that I could pretend to read. I cannot remember a time I have felt so vulnerable, though for some reason, I start to like it. Maybe I do want her to see me here, a hopeless admirer. She’d never see it coming -- not my shy Alecto. I listen to the skips of the stones along the water. Their voices carry if I listen hard enough.

“I’m winning, Am," she says.

“We ain’t been keeping score,” argues her brother.

“Sure we have. I got six skips on that one. Most you got was four a couple times.”

“You can’t say you’re winning if we don’t keep track properly, Allie.”

“All right, all right. Here’s how we’ll keep track. You count your skips, and then add ten to that, and that’ll be my score!”

I rub my face, trying to knead the sound of Alecto’s giggling into my skin. I’m not used to sitting alone. I am constantly surrounded by people. I’m just starting to notice that they’re not the people I want. We’re fakes, we’re all high-society fakes. But Alecto, she’s so _real_. She’s so real and raw and unrefined that no one can befriend her. My side of the shore doesn’t have as long a bank, so I simply point my wand at the dark water.

“ _Accio skipping stone_ ,” I specify, feeling younger than a first year.

It comes into my hand, slimy, wet, and cold. And it’s going to be my tool for getting the attention I want. I wait until it’s Alecto’s turn. And I skip my stone.

 _One, two, three, four_ , my stone goes.

 _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight_ , goes Alecto’s.

I never would have thought she’d meet me more than halfway. Four grey-green eyes land on me. I ignore two of them and give the other two my best smile. But I’m too proud to wave. And I’m far, far, too proud to be this disappointed when Amycus and Alecto walk back into the castle without so much as greeting me.

How dare they. How dare they. I am from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I am the eldest daughter of my house. I have a wonderful inheritance, perfect marks, strong magic. They have _nothing_. How dare they.

I seethe for half the hour, then the other half. The clouds come and the evening darkens, and all this time I think of what curses I shall use on that cold little girl… I will reserve worse ones for the brother…

_Skip, skip, skip, skip_.

I look up from my daze, following the line of the stone in the darkening water. Alecto Carrow is standing next to me. Alone. Unaccompanied. It’s a wish come true.

“Bellatrix?” comes my name in her voice.

“Oh, Allie, do call me Bella,” I say as smoothly as I can.

“Call me Alecto.”

I become uncomfortable against the fabric of my clothes. Somehow, she is able to find good stones on this side of the bank. I watch her squat figure bend to pick them up. She is so utterly graceless, and after growing up with nothing _but_ graces, formalities, and manners shoved down my throat, I find myself in awe. Her graceless hand comes as a half-shove to offer me some stones. Her palms are coarse and damp against my fingers.

 _Skip, skip_.

_Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip._

_Skip, skip._

“You ain’t too good at this, Bella.”

“It’s not something I did as a child,” I say smartly.

“What sorts of things didja do when you was bored?” Alecto asks over her perfectly slanting shoulder.

“I painted.”

“Painted? With what?”

“Paint,” I said.

“I wondered with you, y’know,” said Alecto, and though her back was slightly toward me, it sounded like she was smiling. “Coulda been blood.”

“Oh…” I chuckle in delight. “I started _those_ Arts once I came here. They teach the Arts at your old school, don’t they?”

“Sure do.”

_Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip_.

 _Skip_.

“Why’d you wanna talk to me, Bella?”

Her voice is almost accusatory, like no motive I could have had would be of a decent nature.

“Well, it’s been a while since you transferred here, and you still looked lonely,” I say sweetly.

“No. I didn’t. You’re the one who’s lonely,” she says, and my heart gets pitched across the lake with the stones.

Alecto tosses her hair over her collar. Her hair looks so dark in the evening, but there are still those damned traces of warm shades I want to bury my nose in.

“Quite a bold statement from someone with no friends,” I snap.

“Who are your friends?” Alecto continues.

_Skip, skip._

_Skip, skip, skip_.

“Alecto.”

“Yeah?”

“I can feel your magic from across the classroom.”

“Yeah? Didn’t know you was feelin’ anything.”

 _Skip, skip, skip_.

 _Skip, skip, skip_.

“It’s Dark magic, isn’t it?”

“If you wanna call it that.”

I imagine her using some school of the Arts that was born high in the snows of the Continent, heavily censored before ever reaching the shores of home.

Alecto’s out of stones. She comes closer to me, the top of her head visible beyond my nose.

“Well, what do you call it? What magic do you use?” I ask her.

“C’mere,” she motions, about to tell me a fantastic secret. I bend down to her height and give her my ear.

“It’s raw honey.”

My mouth parts open as if I was going to gasp at the heavy hand behind my head. But instead of air, I inhale Alecto’s lips. My hand spirits over hers briefly as she slides it below my ear, towards my cheek, but she’s faster than me. Both of her hands now hold me absolutely at her mercy, and she tilts my head however she sees fit. I’m barely able to caress that pretty neckline properly as I’m defeated by the nibble of my bottom lip, the brushstrokes of her tongue against mine. As her thumbs rub strong under my jaw, I forget all of my other first kisses. They all become disqualified.

Alecto’s, it scares me.

She pulls away, but I want this--

“Don’t tell nobody.”

Merlin, who would believe me?

My chest pounds like a phantom’s fists against a church door. How could she leave me like this by the lake? She didn’t even offer to walk me back to the castle. Oh, she’d make a rotten gentleman.

I catch my breath and compose myself, but it doesn’t last long. After all, I had been foolhardy and asked Alecto Carrow about her magic, and even though she left, it sticks. As the curfew expires and the evening dies, I turn my eyes back to the surface of the lake. Little grey ovals begin appearing in the light lap of the water. It’s the stones that were skipped today, all floating back to the surface, one by one. There’s lost items coming up now -- old, half-eaten shoes, littered glass bottles. And something lighter than the grey of the stones catches my eye. White ribs of fish start poking up like fingertips, and the bones exhuming are each bigger and bigger.

There are things coming up from that lake that should have stayed down.


End file.
